


i try to picture me without you (but i can't)

by PoemIsDead



Series: they say we are what we are [2]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abusive Themes, Age Difference, Angst, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Minimal Prep, Past Character Death, Poorly Handled Emotions, Rough Sex, bad blow job etiquette, none of this is great, questionable age dynamics, ridiculously detailed porn, rough blow jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: Anti's known Dark for years now - he knows what he wants out of him, and he knows what Dark wants, too.Or, at least, he thought he did.





	i try to picture me without you (but i can't)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, remember this thing I teased at almost a year ago? The sister fic to that AntiAverage thing that gives you some insight into what's up with Anti? Yeah, I finally wrote it, and whoo boy, is it some long-winded pain. I'd originally planned on posting one or two other works in this series before I got to this one, but considering I have no guarantees I'll ever finish the others, and this one's been sitting 90% finished for _months_, it just seemed right to get it out there. I'm not super happy with the way it turned out - it's way longer than I meant it to be - but I need to stop rewriting it, or it'll never get posted, and there are plenty of things I like about it, so for what it's worth, here it is.
> 
> WARNING: This fic is fairly angst heavy, and has some pretty explicit representations of fairly abusive themes, both physically and emotionally. There's also a fair age gap (16/26), although absolutely nothing sexual happens until he's 19. If this isn't you're cup of tea, but you're hoping to enjoy the rest of the series, don't worry - none of the other works will rely on you knowing what happens in this one, so you can safely skip it.

Anti stretched out over the luxurious couch, the picture of comfort over the soft leather. The room was pleasantly cool, no concern for sweaty skin sticking to the rich material, and he let out a low sigh as it pressed into the exposed skin of his lower back, prickling goosebumps there before it started to warm from his touch.

His shoulders shifted a few times, trying to find the best position to stave off any settling stiffness. He wasn't sure how long he was going to have to wait. Maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours, who knew. He'd figured out a long time ago that nothing he did changed the whole waiting thing. It would always be whatever stretch of time _he_ wanted it to be, and the only thing Anti would change was how annoyed he'd be when he showed up.

Not that that stopped Anti from doing the annoying in the first place, but he was at least _aware_ enough to know it didn't help.

Didn't matter anyway. The outcome was always the same. That was the thing with Dark. He knew exactly what to expect from him. There were no surprises when it came to the man.

Only pain.

Not that that stopped him either. Anti was nothing if not a stubborn creature.

Speaking of stubborn creatures . . . 

Anti rolled his eyes as he felt his phone buzz again. He knew without checking who it was from. Wasn't like there were many people who had his personal number. Not like it was something he gave out freely, and he was starting to regret giving it to the guy in the first place.

Not that Chase's texts were wholly . . . unwelcome. The guy had made a habit of shooting him occasional messages throughout the week, usually frivolous comments or stupid pictures or quick stories about his day. And they were always with an air of casualness. There was never an expectation for Anti to respond - as a matter of fact, Chase seemed completely unbothered by the fact that Anti answered him only maybe once out of every seven or eight texts - and they weren't so frequent as to be annoying. Just . . . interesting little additions to his day, as it were.

He wondered if this had been what Chase had hoped for when he asked for his number. Asked for _his_ number, like he somehow knew if he just gave Anti his that he'd never hear from him again. And maybe Anti should have refused, refused to get the guy's hopes up, because he wasn't in the least bit offering what Chase was probably hoping for. But there'd been a brightness to his face that had bothered him to smudge, especially after he'd adamantly _refused_ the offer of breakfast at Chase's favorite waffle place after their little . . . _trist_.

And _that_ hadn't exactly been what _he_ was hoping for either, had it? He wasn't looking for some sweet little gooey thing with kisses and handholding. He'd been frustrated, frayed, anxious, and just looking for a good fuck to wash it out of him. And what better place for a good meaningless fuck than a college frat party?

Chase had been the fucking _picture_ of what he was looking for. Tipsy frat guy, known for being loud and stupid, here on athletic scholarships instead of any real _worth_. Probably only didn't come sniffy around Anti's door for molly because he was worried about fucking up his sports career. The kind of guy that did keg stands and played beer pong and fucked cheerleaders because that's what he was _supposed_ to do. _Exactly_ the kind of guy that would fuck him mindless into the sheets without a second thought as to _why_.

But no, of course, that wasn't what he got. He got the good guy. The one who was actually concerned about him getting off. The one who held his hand when it was almost too much, hell, who _noticed_ when it was almost too much. The one who snuggled up close to him and gave him sleepy morning kisses and tried - way too playfully and without a hint of morning awkwardness - to get him to come try the chicken and waffles at the little place he'd never heard of.

The one who hadn't seemed bothered when he said no. Who'd seemed ecstatic when he gave him his number. The one who _wouldn't fucking stop texting him things that made him weirdly happy._

Anti wasn't an idiot. He was painfully aware of the little line he was riding with Chase. The guy obviously wanted more out of him, and there was something in him that wanted to give him more. Because he did seem _fun_, if nothing else. And sweet, as much as that grated on his nerves, made him want to be mean just to be mean. But he knew that it wasn't actually going to _go_ anywhere, and he probably really needed to try to explain that to Chase too, before the guy got in too deep.

The sound of the front door made Anti's heart leap into his throat, hammering painfully at the knot forming there that he forced away with a practiced ease. His feet shifted where they pressed into the cushions, his hands rearranging themselves unconsciously on his chest as he stared up at the familiar ceiling. He hadn't expected him home so quickly. Not that he was . . . complaining. But he'd waited hours before, and he'd been prepared for that kind of wait now.

He almost wished the wait _had_ been longer, which was weird. Like he wasn't ready or something.

He didn't say anything as he listened to Dark move around in the foyer. Hang up his keys. Take off his coat. Shuck his shoes. He knew the practiced motions, had seen them enough times that he could see them now if he closed his eyes, line up the sounds with the actions. He didn't bother moving from his spot, knowing he was perfectly laid out already - he'd triple checked when he first laid down - and waited for the man to inevitably make his way into the living room.

"I thought I told you you were unwelcome without an invitation."

Anti grinned, but didn't move, closing his eyes as he listened to the sound of Dark's feet across the carpet. He sounded tired. Not overtly, like anyone could notice, because the man was a stickler for sounding above it all every moment of his life, but Anti could tell. There was a tiredness to him that wasn't so deep as to be exhaustion, but it was starting to get there.

He wondered what he'd been up to the last few weeks.

"Awww, but Darky, I always have an invitation," he sung back, letting his fingers crawl their way up his own chest until they could reach the couch behind him. "Yeh know yeh'd die of boredom in yer big boring house without me."

It _was_ big, too. And empty. And untouched, like Dark didn't actually _live_ here, he just owned it. Like a painting, or one of those cars people just owned to say they owned, and then never drove anywhere. And what a _waste_, when there was so much he could be doing with it.

Anti did his best to make it feel _lived in_ whenever he came by. You couldn't relax in a room unless _something_ was a little out of place, and Anti was a _master_ at putting things out of place. Nudging the little bowl by the door so it was off-center. Leaving a granola bar on the counter after he'd raided the cabinets. Finding the little blanket Dark kept in the top of the hall closet and throwing it over the back of the couch where it belonged.

It didn't take much. Just those little touches, extra things that made a house look less like a stock picture in a magazine and more like somewhere you felt comfortable tossing your feet up on various pieces of furniture.

Anti had even bought one of those awful beanbag chairs to set in his living room just to add a splash of color to what was otherwise a house of stark monochromes and minimalist designs, but that had disappeared as soon as he left it.

He'd taken to hiding little figurines around the house instead, as harder-to-find hints of humanity in this empty ass space.

He wondered if Dark had found the unicorn on the back of his headboard yet.

"Besides, if yeh _really_ wanted teh keep me out, yeh'd get better locks."

"Don't tempt me," Dark murmured in a low voice as he stepped into the living room, the brief fall of his shadow shading the harsh white light of the aesthetic fixture overhead from Anti's face, before it was gone again, just as fleeting as the man's attention.

Even as dismissive as the statement was, though, it made Anti grin. Dark never made a threat he wasn't perfectly ready and _willing_ to act on. But the fact that he hadn't actually installed anything more than the physical locks on his doors told Anti he didn't really mind the Irishman's intrusions _that_ much. He certainly had the money to get them upgraded whenever he damn well pleased.

It could also be that he simply didn't _care_ enough to do it. That Anti's interruptions were so inconsequential as to be meaningless. But Anti wasn't sure he could actually handle that idea, so he did with it what he always did with knowledge he didn't want to deal with - he ignored it.

"Oh, but Darky, I _want_ teh tempt yeh," Anti purred with glee, stretching further across the couch and feeling the kiss of cool air across his stomach as his short black shirt rode up higher across his midriff. He knew the paleness of his skin, even with the smattering of dark hair through his happy trail, would stand out like a goddamn beacon in his ensemble - tight, black shorts with a threadbare hem over what amounted to finely-threaded fishnet stockings, and a black, overstretched tee that was bordering on some kind of crop top. Provocative, and perfectly contrasting to his creamy white skin.

He would know. He'd spent long enough perfecting the damn look.

And he wasn't disappointed when Dark glanced at him, those unamused black eyes skittering over his prone frame with what looked for all the world like a disinterested air. But Anti, oh, Anti knew better. He'd perfected the art of reading Dark's face too, and the way his eyes snagged on that tantalizing flash of skin was like a screaming beacon to the Irishman that he'd done his job well.

"Ain't it more fun anyway?" Anti asked, his grin stretching wide over his cheeks as he dug his stockinged toes into the seam of the cushion and pushed up to shift his hips just barely off the couch. Not quite distastefully provocative, but certainly riding the borderline. He could already feel the little thrill of excitement rushing through him, the first taste of interest in those dead black eyes sparking through his veins like the best kind of narcotic, and he grinned up at the older man without a hint of shame.

With Dark, it was best to be a _little_ coy, a little playful and a little hungry and be careful not to cross that line into bad trashy pornstar shit. But you had to be provocative enough to catch his attention in the first place. And that meant not wasting your time with embarrassment or self-consciousness, and throwing yourself into it with the kind of determination usually reserved for overly cliche storybook heroes. Because if all else failed, there was always the fallback of getting Dark annoyed enough that he slipped into real anger.

And Dark's punishment fucks were just as rewarding to Anti as anything else the man would deign to give him.

If he stopped to think about it too long, the whole thing seemed rather pathetic, actually. The way Anti came sniffing around every month or so, like a stray dog begging for scraps. How he insisted on pushing and pushing and pushing in the hopes that Dark would give him _something_, when he knew damn well that he could get something far more from someone else, if he just cared to _try_.

Because Dark had made it clear a long time ago that what he did was _humor_ Anti, and Anti didn't want to be _humored_, despite how stubbornly he returned.

So he didn't think about it too long. He went with the same method he did for everything else. He picked a goal, and he ignored all else in favor of reaching it. And tonight, the goal was Dark fucking him completely mindless the way he'd been hoping whatever college lay he'd found would get even mildly close to.

"Your idea of _fun_-" Dark growled, and even the rumble of annoyance in his voice did something stupid to Anti's gut. "-leaves a lot to be desired."

Anti laughed at that, a genuine sound of amusement trickling through the carefully crafted sound as he stretched across Dark's probably-stupid-expensive couch.

"Oh, I've got all _kinds_ of ideas fer fun, Darky," he cooed, letting his voice get a touch breathy in the middle, before he ended it with a wicked coil around the nickname. "And they've _all_ got somethin' teh be _desired_."

The words were clear, perfect, rolling from his tongue with just the right flavor of sensuality. It didn't matter what he _said_, he knew. It was about how he said it. How he moved. How he shuttered his eyes and let his lips curl up just right. The way he paced himself, took each step carefully, slowly herded Dark into the sinful little corner he wanted him in.

It wasn't an easy thing, by any means. Dark never made it easy. Every time Anti thought he'd perfected the art - and it was an _art_ \- Dark took another step away, closed off another wall, blocked another avenue Anti had exploited to get under his skin. But there was always another way, it was just a matter of _finding_ it. Push and pull, tease and play, it was just a game. And Anti could play it just as well as Dark. Could _enjoy_ it, even when he had to fight tooth and nail.

It was just a game.

Anti just didn't like losing.

Maybe that was why it felt like there was something dull digging its way under his ribcage as he watched Dark roll his eyes, why the dismissal on his face felt like more of a slap than if he'd _actually_ slapped him.

"Get out, Anti," Dark threw over his shoulder as he walked back towards the kitchen, his feet silent across the soft carpet as he brushed Anti off like an unwanted door-to-door salesman. "I have better things to do with my evening than entertain you."

"No, yeh don't," Anti sing-songed back, and if anyone could see the little roiling pit of emotions in his gut, they might be surprised his voice was quite so casual, quite so playful. Confidence poured from every one of his movements as he dragged himself from the couch, following Dark towards the spacious kitchen with bright mismatched eyes and a wicked grin.

An artform. It was all about the picture, not the truth. Perception, not reality. And Anti had gotten real good at painting the scene he wanted over the years.

Funny all the things Dark had taught him to do.

Dark cut him a look when he followed him onto the cool floor of the kitchen, but didn't say anything, turning instead to the cabinet to pull down a short glass, and drop an ice ball into it. Anti's eyes followed the movement of his arm as he reached for the other cabinet, pulled down the scotch, and Anti's lips pulled back in a broad grin as he read the label on the bottle.

Macallan's. He'd be in more trouble if it was the Balvenie, or the Oban, or something he wanted to savor and enjoy in silence. But Macallan's was for dark smiles and genuine eyes, for honesty and nostalgia. And Anti's heart was already picking up a little faster in his chest as he stepped that much closer.

It probably said a lot that he could read so much about Dark just by what he was choosing to drink. But their relationship had never been necessarily _normal_, and alcohol seemed as good a metric as any for who they were.

Dark poured with a practiced ease that said he'd done this probably too many times for his age. The sound of the scotch sliding over the weird little ice ball, filling the low tumbler, was a familiar melody, the smell of it this close mixing with the remembered scent of warm smoke and the feel of thick carpet under his fingers, sending an echo of some spicy buzz through his limbs.

It was one of the only things he wouldn't deal to the mindless party boys back on campus. Scotch. It deserved more than to be dumped into some red solo cup and chugged like a cheap beer.

Plus most of the idiots couldn't afford it.

Dark took a long sip before he turned again, his eyes shaded and unamused as he stared Anti down.

"I'd offer you a glass," Dark drawled, his lips clipping the words just enough to clear up any misperceptions of boredom to his tone. "But I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea."

Anti grinned at that, taking the offered little space in front of Dark, herding him back against the counter he was already starting to lean against.

"Yeh know I don't need that teh get a buzz around yeh," Anti told him, delight dripping from the words. Truth be told, he didn't _like_ the buzz alcohol gave him. The artificialness of it was uncomfortable, adding a stream of anxiety to whatever high it could offer him, and the drugs were just the same. He'd sell just about anything if someone wanted it - he knew how to get his hands on anything they could want, thanks to Dark. But he wouldn't be caught dead relying on that fake euphoria when he knew the taste of the real thing.

Dark didn't stop him as he prowled closer, just lifted his lip in something like a sneer before taking another sip of his scotch, glaring over the lip of his glass. Anti ignored it, offering him a playful grin instead as he closed the space between them, reaching out to rest his hands against the counter behind him and reveling in the power of caging in something like _Dark_.

He liked the way he could look him in the eye now. He'd grown over the last two years, taken those last few inches he'd thought his father's shitty genetics were going to deny him, and caught up to Dark in a growth spurt that had surprised both of them. Dark still had an inch or so on him. But that didn't mean much this close.

"Besides," he purred, leaning forward, close enough to feel Dark's body heat through his crisp shirt. "I know where to get some if I wanted some."

Dark's hand caught him by the hair before he'd gotten anywhere close to running his tongue over the older man's lips the way he'd wanted to. The fingers were firm, biting pressure streaking across his skull that wasn't quite so much to be painful, but enough that Anti could feel the threat there.

And oh, did he feel it. The familiar bite of sharp fingers squeezing through his soft hair, iron and unyielding, with an intent to them that always left him breathless. He bent easily with Dark's strength, letting the man bend him back as he grinned up at him, teasing and playful and wholly unbothered by Dark's refusal to play along.

Well. Mostly unbothered.

"Can you act like a civilized person for five minutes?" Dark hissed in irritation, lines tight around his eyes as he stared him down over his scotch. There was something deeper going on in his look, but Anti couldn't quite put a finger on it yet. Maybe genuine anger, but it could just as likely be some lost scraps of affection. Anti knew they were still there, despite how much Dark denied it.

He wouldn't leave old locks on the door, or drink Macallan's, or let Anti cage him in if he didn't care.

"Where's the fun in that?" Anti purred, crooking his knee up to press along the side of Dark's thigh, and his grin cut wider across his face as something in Dark's eyes stuttered. Oh, he was in a good mood for it today. It was going to be one of those more brutal fucks, it looked like, rather than cruel teasing or mockingly derisive play. Something to let Dark get out some of that animalistic need that he tried oh, so hard to keep locked up.

Anti didn't mind that. He was one of the only people who got to see it, or see it and live at least. He was special in that way.

And Anti was selfish. Anything special he could take from this man, he was going to take. Even if it was rough and biting and left him bruised and battered for days afterward.

He pressed against Dark's grip on his hair, letting out a pleased little hiss at the pain as he arched up towards the older man, enjoying the feeling of the stockings sliding across his smooth legs. This close, he could almost taste it on his lips, that rich, burning taste of scotch on his tongue. The first taste of liquor he'd ever had, burning away the jitter to the nervous fingers of a 17-year-old, just shy of his eighteenth birthday, who'd been far too eager to accept the proferred drink when Dark had deigned to offer.

Now he didn't wait for Dark to _offer_. He pushed for what he wanted. He asked, and he pressed, and he forced Dark to take the goddamn stick out of his ass and step down from that pedestal that the kid he'd been had put him on. Because if there was one thing Anti had learned over the years, it was that Dark sure as hell wasn't going to step down himself.

"You've had a long week," Anti pressed, his voice pitching into a lower croon as he let his leg hook around Dark's, dragging him that much closer, and grinning broader as he felt Dark lean with the pressure. "Come _unwind_, Darky."

Dark scoffed. "Don't pretend you're doing this for anyone other than yourself, Anti," he growled, a touch of something darker in his tone as his fingers tightened in the younger man's hair. "We both know where your interests lie."

"Is it in you dicking me over this counter?" Anti asked with a cackle. "Because 'm pretty sure that's where they're a'lyin'."

His eyelids slid down further as he bit the edge of his lip.

"Or they could be lyin' in yer bed, if yeh wanna be a gentleman."

Dark's eyes hardened a fraction, cold and cruel as he turned to take another sip of his drink, not bothering to look him in the eye as he replied, "Why would I need to be a gentleman with a common whore?"

Ow. The words felt like a cold blade slipping into between his ribs, twisting in his guts as he stared up at an impassive face. But he didn't let that show. His wicked grin grew on muscle memory alone, spreading and twisting like the words were funny instead of painful, like they were playing a game instead of playing with fucked-up emotions, and Anti let the laugh fill the aching space in his chest the knife had left behind.

"Aww, Darky, so _mean_. What happened teh yer 'favorite protege'?"

"I don't know," Dark snipped, downing the last of his drink before setting the glass carefully on the counter, still not looking at him. "What _did_ happen to him?"

Anti shrugged. "I grew up." The ache was still echoing through his chest, making it hard to breathe, but he did his best to drown it in the warmth seeping through Dark's shirt as he traced his fingers up the pristine buttons. "Yeh couldn't expect me teh stay young and dumb and complacent forever, could yeh?"

His eyes darted back up to try to catch Dark's eye.

"Especially with the way _you_ teach."

"I seem to remember teaching you _manners_ as well," Dark growled, his free hand catching Anti hard by the wrist, stopping the slow path he'd been making up towards his throat. Anti only laughed, letting him keep that wrist as he ran his other hand over Dark's arm, up over his shoulder to press against his clavicle through his shirt.

Anti shrugged as he let his fingers play up to warm bare skin above his collar. Dark was never _hot_, per se, but Anti liked the warmth. He didn't make a habit of touching people, finding the sensation almost irritating, but Dark had always felt . . . nice.

"I kept what was useful," he told him easily. Kept what _worked_ as it were, but Dark could figure that out. Being nice, being _good_, had never gotten him where he wanted. Not when he was a little kid begging his father not to leave. Not when he was a child just trying to protect his little brother from his mother's drunken rages. Not when he was a teen standing in his bloody kitchen trying to understand what had happened.

Hell, Dark had only taken him with because he'd tried to stab the man. He'd only been 16 when he found his mother and brother dead in their home. Just a 16-year-old kid, with no prospects, no trade, no family, standing on blood-soaked tile and trying to hold together the scraps of his world as everything seemed to crumble around him. His mother hadn't been much - a drunk, falling between sporadic rages and crushing depression - but she'd kept them fed and housed, protected them from the world she and their father had chosen to be a part of in their past.

But his brother. Marvin had been the only person he gave two shits about, the only person he goofed off and played with, the one he busted his ass to make sure was fed every day, the one he got suspended for to teach the fuckers who'd picked on him a lesson. And seeing him there, looking so small as he curled around the fatal wound in his stomach, cold and motionless on their old tile, had broken something in him.

When Dark had walked in, looking almost startled to see the young man standing over the scene, he'd acted on instinct. He'd put the pieces together pretty quickly - he knew his mother had been into some shady shit, and could only assumed she'd lost some game she'd played at - and he could only assume Dark was some henchmen left behind to finish the job.

Boy, had he been wrong there.

He wished the cut he'd left with their old chef's knife across the man's cheek had scarred. He wished he'd left _some_ kind of mark on the man, because as it was, Dark looked the damn same as he had all those years ago in his stupid kitchen. And it wasn't _fair_.

Dark had taken him in. Dark had taught him a trade - as unsavory as it was - and Dark had put a new value in him he'd never expected to have. Dark had changed everything about his life, even before they'd . . . even before things changed.

It wasn't fair that Dark had so much power over him if he didn't get a little power in return.

And since this seemed to be the only avenue he had . . .

"Don't pretend yeh don't like it, Darky," he added, the first hint of exasperation bleeding into his voice. He'd never had a great amount of patience, and Dark's stubborness was starting to make him think of the way Chase had hesitated, too. It was _frustrating_, watching someone who obviously wanted to get their dick wet refusing to get to it, over some stupid uncertainty or pride. All he wanted was to get fucked - this wasn't that hard.

Anti pressed back against the hand still buried in his hair, ignoring the sharp burn as he leaned up, twisting the hand still caught in Dark's grip to join his other on his shoulders, and dragging one thigh up to press purposely between the older man's legs.

"You've been achin' fer me for a while," he pointed out, his grin salacious and smug as he slid his thigh along the thick, hard heat trapped in Dark's pristine pants. "So why don't we skip the part where yeh pretend yeh ain't."

Anti didn't have time for more than a single long pass over his dick before Dark's hand clamped down over his throat, dragging him off the counter and stalking him across the cold floor to slam into the wall. Anti groaned as hard fingers bit into his neck, not tight enough to steal his breath, but enough to make him wheeze, and his eyes rolled back as Dark towered over him.

"Is this what you wanted?" Dark snarled into his ear, his voice rough and angry, but with a touch of that cruelty twisting the edges. "Is this how you hoped things would turn out? Reduced to nothing more than a begging whore?"

"Not a whore," Anti struggled from under the pressure, fighting to catch a full breath as Dark bore down harder.

"Really?" he hissed as he shoved his knee between Anti's legs, pressing against his own still-overly-interested dick. "And who was the one laid out like a Playboy model on my couch, dressed like a cheap prostitute, begging for work?"

"I- didn't-"

"Except you're not even here for money, are you? At least a prostitute is earning a wage. You're nothing more than a _cockslut_."

The words stung, worse than the bite of the fingers at his throat. Because they weren't true, not the way he said them, but there was still truth _in_ them. He _was_ desperate, but not for just any good fuck. He wanted _Dark_ \- he wanted his attention, his affection, wanted to watch how deep his eyes could be when he looked down at him as they moved together. He wanted-

He wanted the first time. That's what he wanted. He wanted to reverse time and get that night back, when he was just 19, and still naive enough to think he'd be with Dark for the rest of their lives. Back when he didn't know the kind of fire he was playing with, when he thought words said in the heat of the moment actually held any weight.

What a naive kid he'd been.

That night hadn't been about sex and passion, but it certainly hadn't been about what 19-year-old him had thought it was. When Dark had come back from some job drunk - not incoherent by any means, but certainly less in control than Anti had ever seen him before - Anti had acted out of instinct, wanting nothing more than to try to calm down whatever weird, frayed emotions had sparked Dark's abnormal behavior. Because Dark didn't act like that. Dark didn't come home late without warning him, Dark didn't snap and lash out, and Dark certainly _never_ got drunk around him.

So when he'd snarled for him to go to bed, to _leave him alone_, as he sat against the wall in their old foyer, staring - _glaring_ \- up at the ceiling, like it held some kind of answer, Anti hadn't listened to him.

And the fact that they'd ended up in Dark's bed hours later hadn't been something he'd regretted at the time.

No, it wasn't until the next morning, when he'd woken up to a kind of fury he'd never seen in the older man, when Dark had spit at him to _get out_, that he'd regretted.

Even more so when he realized Dark was serious. When the next day his things were packed and Dark was shipping him away to go to school, "like a normal kid."

_"Maybe you'll learn to be more than a burden,"_ he'd gritted out coldly as Anti stared at him in horror, seconds away from dropping to his knees and begging. He hadn't wanted to leave. He hadn't wanted to lose the little bit of . . . whatever this was, not a family, but _something_ that he had left. He hadn't wanted to be _alone_, and fuck his pride, he had been ready to drop it all if it meant not leaving. But then Dark's eyes had hardened, and his lips had looked like they were carving the words out of stone as he'd added, _"Like your mother."_

And Anti had decided as he sat in the back of the all-too-nice taxi, driven by the all-too-nice graying red-haired man, that he didn't give two shits about Dark's plans. He'd go to school, fine. He'd be top of his goddamn class. He'd earn every fucking scholarship he could get, and he'd sell on the side. He wouldn't take a _cent_ of Dark's money to put him through school _or_ life.

He'd be his own fucking person, just like Dark wanted, and he'd _still_ get what he wanted.

Dark wasn't going to be the one to decide how his life went.

But Anti didn't say any of that now, as he stared up at Dark's hot eyes glaring down at him, gripping weakly at the hand at his throat. He'd barely said it the first time he came back either, when he'd let himself into the fancy new place Dark had bought, when he'd sat on his kitchen counter and waited for the man to come home, just to taunt him with the fact that he couldn't control him.

He hadn't said it the next time either, when he'd cornered Dark in his living room, and watched the way his eyes darted to Anti's lips. Or the next time, when he'd snuck in just so he could step out of the shower in nothing but a towel when Dark got home, and _feel_ the way Dark's eyes roamed.

No, Anti hadn't said it then, and he wasn't going to say it now.

Now, he just wanted Dark to fuck him.

"Who's the cockslut?" Anti bit out from behind the hard hand, grinning as he wrapped one leg around Dark's hip. Dark was still hard, despite his biting words, and the way his eyes darted gave away more than he wanted them to, Anti was sure. All he needed was the right push, and he'd be fucking him into the wall, and they could both forget silly things like the past and their pride.

Whatever of it was left.

"Come on, Darky," Anti purred, encouraged, picked, his hips rolling up slowly and pulling a low sound from his own throat as he found some satisfaction in the friction. "We both know yer gonna fuck me." A thrill rushed through him sharply as he felt a muscle tense in Dark's hip as he pressed their clothed shafts together. "So why don't we hurry up and skip to that part?"

Dark's fingers squeezed cruelly around his throat, and Anti lost whatever eloquence he'd managed in his speech as struggled to simply wheeze breaths around the pressure.

"I've never met anyone as _insufferable_ as you," Dark hissed, leaning so he was speaking almost against his blotchy cheek, and Anti's eyes rolled as he struggled under the weight of his heavy eyes and fingers alike.

"Yeah?" he choked, eyes watering even as he grinned. "Why don't yeh- _ghck_ . . . why don't yeh come . . . shut me up then?"

The loss of air wasn't surprising to Anti by that point. The way Dark leaned his considerable strength into the grip he had around Anti's throat, or the way the dark spots started to dance around the edges of his vision almost immediately. It was a dance they'd done too many times at this point, and the hand that fell on Dark's wrist was soft and loose. Habit more than an actual attempt to remove the thing restricting his air, and pinning him so harshly to the wall.

It was the flicker in Dark's eyes that was more interesting right then, not the hand choking him. Something he couldn't name passed over Dark's face, some frustration he wasn't familiar with that darkened the older man's expression and made something coil anxiously in Anti's gut, until he squirmed in his grip.

"You don't _know_ when to shut up," Dark spat, his voice grinding out of his throat as he pressed closer, expression disappearing from view as he turned his face into Anti's throat. "You don't know when to _quit_."

Anti couldn't help the way he turned into Dark, just as he couldn't help the way he squeezed around Dark's hip, thigh trembling as he rocked against him. The spots in his vision were getting worse, head pounding as his lungs started to beg for oxygen, but still, he didn't fight. Just wrapped his fingers in Dark's hair and arched up against him.

They were getting there. They were getting there, but god, he wanted them to get there faster.

"But fine," Dark continued, his voice grating over Anti's ear as he turned to speak into it. "If you're going to be a spoiled child about this."

And then he released him, sharply, and Anti sucked in a sharp breath, too fast, choking as he struggled to get the oxygen his body was begging for. His legs wobbled for a moment, threatening to give out, before Dark's hand fell to his shoulder and _shoved_.

"On your knees, Anti," Dark growled, the pressure and voice together more than enough to send him exactly where Dark wanted him, his already weak legs crumpling beneath him without a fight.

"Finally," Anti gasped, struggling to blink the tears streaming down his face away as his fingers bit into Dark's pants, knees aching from the quick descent.

Dark made a low sound of annoyance, but didn't respond, choosing instead to slip his long fingers into his belt buckle, undoing it with a practiced motion before Anti even had a chance to offer his assistance. And Anti, still struggling to catch his breath and all too happy to get the ball rolling, didn't bother adding any further snide remarks or tease. He was about to have a mouth full of dick anyways, no point trying to talk around that.

The familiar heat of Dark's cock against his lips was soothing, in a way. Like chapstick to cracked lips, or hot water to sore muscles, and Anti sighed, letting his eyes slip closed as he pressed forward to lay the heavy meat across his tongue. This was familiar. Satisfying. Pleasant. It was exactly what he'd come here for.

So why did the little knot of anxiety in his gut not go away? The flavor laved across his tongue was what he'd been craving, the satisfaction of the first bitter taste of pre that he lapped happily from the tip as he put his all into the blowjob. This was his win, his victory, his vindication. So why didn't it feel like it?

It wasn't until he pulled off for a quick breath, the loud _pop_ of his lips releasing Dark's cock from his mouth almost echoing through the empty room, that he realized what was wrong.

The silence. It was crushing around them like a wet blanket, heavy and uncomfortable as Anti slid his fingers down in a tight ring around Dark's heavy erection. Not that it _should_ have been. Dark was usually quiet. Stubbornly so, really. And Anti had never minded making up for that fact before. So why was it that Dark's mute presence bothered him now?

Anti licked his lips, tasting the evidence of his job well done, and looked up with a wicked grin as he stroked over the heated flesh slowly.

"No moans fer yer whore, Darky?" he teased, grinning as he leaned forward to press his tongue along the slit, licking down and letting the weight of Dark's cock slide up his cheek, over his eye, until it was resting over his face as he licked a fat stripe along the base.

His face was going to be a goddamn mess by the end of this, but he'd stopped caring about that a long time ago. Maybe at the beginning, the idea would have bothered him. But he'd shucked his pride in favor of winning some time back, and the debauched mess was a petty price to pay for the possible reward.

Not that Dark seemed overly impressed by the display. Which was . . . frustrating. He could still remember the first time he'd done it, the way he'd nuzzled up under the older man's cock and parted his lips to let him rut against them. The way Dark's lips had parted in surprise, pupils dilating sharply as his hand tightened in his hair, and he'd made the kind of mess that required a shower instead of a washcloth to fix.

But he didn't get that now. He rarely got a reaction like that twice. As if Dark learned what to guard himself against just as much as Anti learned what tricks worked best, and all his best efforts ever got him were brief flashes of new addictions, and highs he'd be forever fruitlessly chasing.

"I don't believe my _whore_ is entitled to anything," Dark told him in an irritatingly bored voice, as if they were still talking from across the room, and Anti wasn't currently lapping at his balls. "I believe my _whore_ should be happy to have gotten what he wanted at all."

_This isn't what I wanted_, Anti thought bitterly, only to stutter over the thought. Wasn't it? It's what he'd come here for. It was exactly one of the scenarios he'd imagined, as a matter of a fact. It wasn't like he came here for sexual gratification. Dark could fuck his mouth like he was some fancy blow-up doll and he'd have still gotten what he wanted. All he _wanted_ was to win, to make Dark give in, and that's what he'd gotten.

But the memory of hands in his hair, sliding down his neck, cupping his jaw as a voice groaned praises to him danced around the edges of his mind as he leaned up to follow the thick line up the underside of Dark's cock, and it all seemed . . . lacking.

His hands were moving before he realized he'd given them the command, reaching out to catch Dark's wrists with coiling fingers, and tugging his hands up to press into his hair.

"Come on, Dark," he purred, letting the older man feel the way his lips moved over his flushed crown as he spoke. "Didn't yeh say you were gonna make me shut up?"

_Give me something_, he thought in a frayed kind of way, as his lips curled up in a lying smile. _Use me, give me **something**_.

Dark's eyes narrowed as his expression twisted into something sharp and unpleasant, and Anti's gut twisted with it, frustration and something else coiling in tight waves as he fought to keep the lie on his face. But then there were fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him up to press his lips against his wet tip, and Anti sighed and opened his mouth, not bothering to stop the little moan of pleasure as Dark used his hair as a handhold to press into the wet cavern of his mouth.

"_Insufferable_," the older man hissed under his breath, but Anti didn't care as he let his eyes roll shut. The pressure pulling deliciously around his head, the heavy weight on his tongue, the way it twitched in his mouth as he wrapped his lips tighter and _sucked_. That- that was closer to what he wanted. That was soothing in the way he wanted it to be. That was less frustrating and more rewarding, and he hummed around Dark's cock as he sucked harder, pausing only to wriggle his tongue playfully in a way that earned him another satisfying twitch.

He didn't pay attention to time as he worked. It wasn't about how _fast_ he got Dark off - though that could be fun in its own way. It was about how much he could make him unravel, how deeply he could get to him, and the ache in his jaw was nothing in comparison to the first hint of a groan in Dark's breathing.

Anti opened his eyes when he felt Dark start to truly guide him, opening his mouth wider and letting the older man use him as he pleased as he turned his attention up to his face. He was surprised to see Dark had closed his eyes, one of his hands moved up to the wall to brace himself as the other pulled Anti's mouth into the slick roll of his hips, the Irishman going all too willingly as he watched the little knot form in Dark's brow.

Oh, but that was nice, a luxury he wasn't awarded often. It was rare that Anti was able to see Dark's face when he was fucking him, and so much rarer still that Dark wasn't glaring at him, or affecting an expression of irritating boredom. To see him _enjoying_ Anti, even if only a little, had the Irishman aching sharply in his stockings, eyes clouded over in happy lust as he sucked and lathed and swallowed around the dripping length in his mouth.

When Dark let out a long, low groan, his lips parting as he leaned heavier into the wall, Anti couldn't stop the way he moaned in return, the sound vibrating over his shaft as he pressed the heel of his palm into the tent he was making in his shorts, his body melting in satisfaction.

Dark's eyes cracked open at the sound, looking down at him with an almost hazy expression, and Anti whined at the sight, his fingers bunching in the fabric of Dark's nice pants as he pushed deeper until his nose was buried in tight curls of coarse hair.

God, that was good. Better than he'd hoped to expect, even with the Macallan's. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd gotten that kind of expression from Dark, at least where he could see it, and he was eager to repay it, in no hurry to taunt for once. He wanted more of that, whatever he could manage to pull from that usually guarded face, and he was happy to jump through whatever hoops Dark wanted to get more.

Only, Dark didn't seem in the mood to give it to him. Anti could feel the moment he closed off again, could feel how his fingers tightened cruelly instead of with passion, and he groaned in frustration at the loss, pulling back to drag a slick friction down his length as he sucked and lathed and tried to reclaim that honesty.

But Dark didn't give him a chance to get more than halfway back before he shoved forward, hard hands pinning his head back against the wall and giving him only a split second to suck in a quick breath through his nose before Dark was filling his throat.

Anti winced, his throat spasming harshly as he struggled not to gag, spluttering around him instead. His jaw ached in protest, a sharp _pop_ echoing through his head as he tried in vain to readjust and find a more comfortable position. His nose was buried in wiry hair, surrounded by a thick musk he couldn't actually smell as muscle memory struggled to kick in and save him from choking.

_Asshole_.

Not the first time Dark had forced him to show off his deep-throating capabilities without warning. But certainly the most unwelcome, as he blinked back beading tears and struggled to look up, even knowing he wouldn't be able to see Dark's face from this angle. He'd been so _close_, just a taste of what he'd been craving dangled in front of him before Dark took it back like a fickle god.

"Bite me, and you go home," Dark told him in an iron tone, and Anti made a noise of exasperation, letting his fingers bite sharply into Dark's thigh as he tried fruitlessly to look up at him. Well, no shit. It wasn't like he was planning on it, no matter how much his jaw ached, or his disappointment rang, or how much his already burning lungs would appreciate the removal of the blockage in his throat. He knew what he was doing, in this if nothing else. That Dark thought he needed to tell him was almost insulting.

Not that he wouldn't _much_ prefer Dark pull back. He liked deepthroating - he _really_ did - but much more when he was the one in control, and Dark was the one biting back his groans.

"Just one little scrape of teeth," Dark warned, fingers slipping up to card through Anti's hair, lighting little sparks of pleasure across his scalp as he drew his hips back just enough to let the smaller male catch the first hint of a breath, before snapping them forward again. "And that's it. I let you go, and you leave."

_I get it,_ Anti thought in irritation, struggling to find a grip with his lips as he fought back the stuttering coughs trying to spasm down his throat. His vision was already starting to swim, throat raw and head pounding from the rough treatment, but god, was the feeling heady as he managed to pull another low groan from Dark.

"But you won't, will you?" the older man asked in a rough voice, pulling back again, this time enough to let Anti catch a full breath. The Irishman sucked down greedy lungfuls of air, turning his head to cough and swallowing roughly to clear his throat as the room came back into focus around him. Dark's fingers were still in his hair, cock hot against his cheek as he caught his breath, and he went all too willingly, _hungrily_, when Dark led him back to slip into his mouth once more.

It was easier this time, slipping through raw lips into a mouth starting to feel numb to the weight of his cock. His throat closed eagerly around his length, swallowing to ease the way, eyes watering but open as he let him fuck into his throat.

"Even if you should."

Anti blinked around his wet eyes, tongue quivering along the heat in his mouth and spluttering a broken moan when it twitched in appreciation. The words were meaningless and empty in his ears, just Dark's ramblings, so unimportant in the wake of the _roughness_ in his voice, the way his hands felt in his hair, the soft beat of his pulse against his tongue.

"No," Dark murmured, his voice rougher than before as Anti remembered to suck in time with the roll of his hips. "You're going to sit there, and let me hurt you."

Anti groaned in response, or tried to at least, the sound coming out more like choking than anything as Dark pressed as deep as he could, the spasms of Anti's throat doubtlessly sending waves of pleasure down his cock. He held him there, just like that, treating him like a cock sleeve, like a doll, like he didn't need to breathe or move for Dark to get what he wanted out of him.

Why did that make his dick ache?

Why did it make his chest ache more?

But as moments dragged longer, and Dark made no move to release him, Anti's foggy-headed complacence started to twist into something more . . . feral. He turned his head, searching for just a quick bite of air to soothe the burning in his lungs, but Dark's fingers tightened in his hair, and he found himself decidedly stuck.

"Oh, no, Anti," Dark crooned, a hint of a growl curling through his words. His grip on him was absolute, One set of warm fingers trailed down his cheek, reaching under to cup his jaw where it spasmed from the abuse as the other held him in place. "No, you wanted me to use you. So sit still, and let me use you."

Anti spluttered a noise of frustration around Dark's cock, hands shoving harshly at his hips as he tried to get enough air to tell the older man off. But Dark didn't budge, body iron against him, and Anti's lungs screamed with a new panic as he realized how stuck he was just then. His fingers scrambled at Dark's sides, at his arms, tugged at his hands to get them out of his hair, but without success. His eyes rolled wildly as he yanked his head back and forth, trying to find some escape as the panic took him for a moment, body falling back on instinct as his mind blanked under the assault.

"You'll have to bite if you want out before I'm finished with you," Dark told him in a low voice, the sound of it sliding through his panic instead of cutting it apart.

_Bite_, Anti thought frantically, jaw struggling to open wider as his throat tried again to dislodge the blockage with a wet cough. His head throbbed in time with his dick, his fingers bit uselessly into any skin he could find, and his tongue fought fruitlessly to push the hot mass in his mouth away, only causing the thick weight to twitch against his teeth.

But he didn't bite. The panic rose and fell in waves, and all it took was the incoherence to ebb for Anti to make his decision, jaw locking in defiance as he fought his body to relax under Dark. His fingers released their death grip, slipping from where they'd found their way under Dark's shirt to fall to his hips instead, gripping at his pants again before finally releasing him entirely, and letting his arms fall to his sides. His chest heaved as if he was sucking in imaginary breaths, but everything else he forced to relax, to fall limp under Dark's touch, and wait.

He could be just as patient as Dark. Just as in control. And he wasn't about to bite and prove Dark right.

Especially if it meant going home.

It was hard though. His body was still begging for oxygen, dark spots filling his vision as his fingers twitched to fall back into their previous desperation, and everything screamed in him to _fight_. His chest heaved without breath, his back arched and twisted weakly as if he could somehow escape, and tears streaked down his cheeks in messy rivulets when all he wanted to do was suck Dark off until he added to the mess.

But he won. He sat, and he waited, pliant and patient for untold seconds as his pulse ratcheted through his desperate body, until Dark growled in annoyance, and finally, _finally_, yanked back.

"You are _insufferable_," Dark spat again, and Anti might have had something witty to say to that if he wasn't choking on each great mouthful of air he sucked down like his life depended on it. Each breath was raw and painful, and his head swam as he leaned away against the wall and heaved until the spots started to abate.

"I don't-" he started when he thought he had enough breath to try, only to have to stop to clear his throat again. "I don't think yer sufferin' very much, Darky."

It was hard to make his lips curl back into that shit-eating grin - they were raw, almost numb, and exhausted from the abuse - but he did it anyway, letting his head loll as he grinned up at Dark with a tired kind of glee. The older man was glaring down at him, nostrils flaring softly and a muscle twitching in his jaw, and Anti giggled weakly as he reached up to walk his fingers along Dark's pant leg.

"Seems to me," he purred with delight, grinning wider as his fingers met the heavy weight of his shaft again. "That yer right enjoyin' yerself, _doll_."

"Get up." It wasn't a request. Two clipped words uttered from hard lips, and that ever insistent rebellious vein wanted to disobey on principle alone.

"In a minute," he said dismissively, leaning forward press his face to the side of his cock again. "'m busy."

A knee caught him hard in the chest, pressing him back into the wall with a bruising force and ripping the object of his affection away from his lips.

"Hey-!"

"Up, Anti," Dark repeated, voice brokering no argument as he stared down at him with those black marble eyes. "Now."

And _he_ was supposed to be the insufferable one.

Anti rolled his eyes, making a show of licking his lips before pressing back against the knee on his sternum. "How 'bout yeh let me up then?"

Dark made a sound, some annoyed click of his tongue, but moved the knee, and Anti had to fight the temptation to give his dick another long lick, just for good measure and spite. Instead, he reached up, catching Dark's wrists and using him to drag himself up off the ground, grinning wide at the indignant noise Dark made as he planted his feet to stop himself from going down with Anti's weight.

The older man tried to twist his hands away as soon as Anti had found his feet, but the Irishman wasn't interested in letting him have them back. His fingers pressed deep into his wrists, anchoring him, before he yanked him forward into a wicked kiss.

The sound Dark made at that, something low and dangerous, like a warning growl, sent a thrill up Anti's spine, his answering moan throaty and raw. Dark didn't pull away from him, but he didn't pull his punches either, his teeth quickly finding Anti's bottom lip and giving it a hard bite that had him sucking in a hiss before Dark's tongue laved over it in a soothing swipe.

God, but he was good with his mouth. Anti had learned a lot, knew a lot about how to use his lips and teeth and tongue, but Dark was another thing altogether, and that just wasn't _fair_. It wasn't _fair_ that Dark could distract him so thoroughly with the way he kissed, forcing his lips apart and exploring his mouth with a confidence and power that left Anti weak-kneed at the best of times.

Pair that with the way Dark angled his body along Anti's, pressing one thigh insistently between his stocking-clad legs and putting a pressure along Anti's almost-forgotten shaft, it wasn't really a surprise that he lost the upper hand.

When Dark twisted his arms away again, this time in time with a forceful thrust of his tongue, Anti lost his grip on the other man's wrists, fumbling for a moment before Dark's fingers latched onto his arms and _bit_. He hit the wall behind him, groaning as Dark pinned him there with hands and body, and only fighting for a moment before he yielded to Dark's force.

He'd gotten what he wanted, anyways. The train was rolling. Only thing now was to hang on for the ride.

Dark's hands were hard on his arms, holding him at his mercy as he pressed closer, and Anti could feel the scalding heat of his cock pressed against the bare skin of his stomach where his short shirt had ridden up. Anti rolled with the movement, pressing back, not to try to escape, but just to revel in the satisfaction of another body on his.

This was what he wanted. What he needed. A salve to the itching beneath his skin, to let Dark _take_ from him, and know that he'd caused it all. It's what he'd wanted from Chase, to drive the guy out of his mind enough that his more animal needs might take over, might make him just act on his wants. Just dig in and _take_.

Only Chase had given as much as he'd taken, hadn't he? Anti could still remember the feeling of his hands stroking up his sides, his lips pressing against his shoulders, his beard scratching at the sensitive skin of his perineum as he pressed his tongue into him. _God_, that had been a surprise. He'd had some experience before Dark, and he'd certainly learned a lot in the meantime, but he'd never had someone eat him out before. And the fact that Chase had offered that so willingly, without provocation had just been . . . _god_.

What would it take to get that from Dark? For Dark to flip him around right now, and get on his knees for him? The image alone was a punch to the gut, and Anti moaned brokenly against Dark's lips, arching against him, grinding greedily along his thigh as he reached uselessly for him. He wanted his _hands_ on him goddamnit.

As if on cue, Dark released his arms in favor of yanking sharply at Anti's belt one-handed, tugging the buckle free with an all-to-practiced motion. His other hand wrapped around Anti's neck to hold him still as he leaned down to sink his teeth into the tense muscle of his shoulder. Anti's hips jerked sharply, his groan throatier this time as he arched into the older man's grip, gasping when he felt the wet little line Dark's cock made along his skin when he rocked again.

His hands weren't his to control anymore when Dark rocked back. They crawled up to Dark's shoulders, scraping down his shoulder blades through his shirt and tangling in his hair, trying to drag him closer as Dark's fingers hooked under his waistband.

"Anti," Dark warned, and despite the way he used it as a reprimand, a thrill raced up Anti's spine at the sound of his name on his lips.

"Yer takin' too long," Anti hissed back, dragging one leg up to hook it around Dark's hip again, rolling his hips to press his trapped shaft along Dark's free one, knowing the friction would be just on the wrong side of uncomfortable with the buckles on his shorts.

Just one more reason for Dark to get a move on removing them.

For that, Dark didn't disappoint. It only took him a moment to disengage from Anti's grip, flipping him around to face the wall and slipping practiced fingers into the pocket of his shorts to pull out the little packet of lube they both knew Anti would have there. And then his hands were back, yanking at the black shorts already slipping low on Anti's hips, and dragging them down, the rough fabric sliding easily over his stockings until they fell in a heap around his feet, where Anti kicked them away all too happily.

He didn't give Dark a chance to touch the stockings though. He'd put them on for a specific reason, and as soon as Dark took a little step back to give him room to kick the shorts away, Anti took advantage. He leaned his chest against the wall and reached back to grab a fistful of stockings on each asscheek, and _pulled_, shivering at the sound the cheap stockings made as they tore down the center, and revealed his decided lack of underwear.

It had the desired effect. Anti could hear the breath Dark sucked in, a short sound that edged just along a groan, but never quite made it there. Which might as well have been a whore's moan, coming from Dark. Anti smirked against the wall, chest swelling with that weird giddy pride he was always searching for as he arched his back further, standing up on his tiptoes and showing off like a slut.

_Look,_ he thought in a breathless kind of way as his fingers slid over the torn edges of the stockings, finding purchase on skin and pulling to give the man an even better view of what he was offering. _Look what you could have if you would just_ take.

Dark's hands were startling cold on his hips, biting in their grip, and Anti shivered as he listened to the low, animalistic sound that rumbled through Dark's chest as he shoved him harder into the wall.

"Fine," Dark bit out, in a voice so low Anti wasn't sure he'd been meant to hear. He could feel the rough callouses on Dark's hands, the strength in his arms, the cool of his skin. He could feel the brush of his breath against the back of his neck when he hissed again, the word bitter and harsh on his tongue. "_Fine_."

"I know I am," Anti teased back, a gleeful little grin plastered to his face as he listened to the crinkle of the lube packet, knowing Dark had to be using his teeth since one hand was still pinning him in place. His legs were already shuffling apart on habit alone, back curving in and body relaxing as we waited for the harsh press of Dark's fingers.

Only that wasn't what he got. Instead, there was a wet _smack_, a thick heat pressing slickly between his cheeks, and Anti sucked in an involuntary breath as he felt Dark rock once through the valley of his ass, slowly, like he was teasing him, and Anti's mind jumped back to how Chase had done the same thing. How he'd groaned, the way his fingers massaged along his hips, the way it had felt like he'd been trying to take the edge off so he didn't hurt him.

That wasn't what Dark was doing.

"Hey-"

Fingers threaded through his hair, holding him still as hot breath washed over his ear.

"You fucked yourself open on your fingers, didn't you?" Dark asked in a biting voice, the words carved around his teeth. Anti groaned as he felt him pull back, pressing the head of his cock against his entrance, pushing just enough to threaten what he was obviously planning. "You can take me like this, or not at all."

He wasn't wrong. He wasn't wrong, but _fuck_. Anti had taken great pleasure in the past in telling Dark _all about_ how he opened himself up in Dark's nice glass shower every time he came over, just to ruin one more place in this stupid monochrome house. He didn't necessarily _need_ the extra prep. Probably. He wasn't actually sure. But Dark had always given it to him in the past.

And he wasn't exactly sure what it would be like without it.

Dark pressed harder, slick crown starting to slip into tight heat, and Anti sucked in another breath as he turned his head up towards the ceiling, digging his teeth into his bottom lip to stop the groan that wanted to follow.

"Fuck," he whispered as Dark seemed to take that as permission, pressing insistently. Not rushed, but sure and steady, unrelenting, and Anti had to brace his arm against the wall, nails biting into his palm as he tried to relax. "_Fuck_."

Dark bit off a groan behind him, and Anti couldn't stop the way his body clenched down in excitement at that, the sensation sharp and intense as Dark's hips jerked, driving him deeper. That was a lot. Holy shit, that was a lot. Dark was not a small boy, and he wasn't near as relaxed as he could be, and that was a _lot_-

Anti keened as Dark forced his head inside, pressing up onto his toes as his body rippled in some kind of painful relief, some agonizing satisfaction. The hand at his hip was still holding him tight, keeping him steady on his suddenly weak knees, but the hand in his hair had loosened, had brushed along the nape of his neck as lips turned to brush there in kind.

"Is that all it takes to shut you up?" Dark asked in a voice broken with amusement, and Anti struggled to get his wits about him.

"You-" he started, only to cut off with a gasp as Dark pressed forward again, helpless to do anything but try to remember how to breath as Dark sank to the hilt.

Dark waited once he'd bottomed out, both of them breathing heavily as Anti's body struggled to adjust to the intensity. He wanted to writhe, to squirm and scratch at the walls, grind his teeth as he fought to relax, but all he could seem to do was gasp, soft little sounds that didn't match the intensity of the feeling.

His dick hadn't seemed to have gotten the message about the whole "too much" thing, it seemed.

"All that talk," Dark growled, leaning forward to pour each word into his ear. "And you fall apart so _easily_."

He didn't. Usually. He could take anything Dark dished out, could withstand any rage he managed to wheedle out of the man and bite for more. This was his pastime, his passion, and he was good at it.

So why was it so much harder now?

Dark drew back slowly, hardly an inch, though it felt like a mile, and Anti made a soft noise as he rolled back in, starting up an almost gentle rhythm that sent a prickling rush of pleasure up his spine. He could feel Dark's breath against the delicate skin behind his ear, feel it tickling his hair as the older man let out a low sound that had his stockinged toes curling against the ground. His heart was still stuttering away in his chest, body still taut and wound up and not ready for the kind of fucking he'd been begging for. But even still, he rocked back to meet Dark on the next thrust.

Just to hear the bitten-off sound that pulled from him.

There were fingers in the hair along the back of his neck, and he arched up into them, wanting more of the touch, the sensation of nails scraping across his scalp, the pressure of a firm grip. He wanted . . . he wanted a lot more. He wanted hands on him, skin, he wanted something to burn out the awful electricity buzzing just under the surface. He wanted Dark to fuck him like . . . like . . .

"Where's your fight, Anti?" Dark asked lowly, and there was something else in his voice that Anti couldn't place. Something that made the buzzing worse as his chest tightened sharply, and he struggled not to make some stupid, pitiful sound, except it came out in the form of that stupid name instead.

"_Dark._"

He felt . . . _frayed_ again. Like he was starting to unravel. Starting to crumble. Like he was one misplaced word or touch away from falling apart.

Stupid. That was stupid. _Really_ stupid. His fingernails bit sharply into his own palm, teeth digging even harder into his bottom lip. There was no reason to feel like this, this stupid, pathetic, whiny feeling. He was getting _exactly_ what he wanted. He was getting dicked down at Dark's expense, and he was _loving it_, loving the feeling of his cock filling him just right, and loving the sound of Dark trying to hide his groans. It was good, it was _perfect_, it was what he was here for.

So why did it feel like there were stitches through his chest, drawn tight enough to cut off his breath? Why did he feel like he was going to fall to pieces if Dark didn't touch him, press him against the wall, cover every inch of his skin with his rough hands?

Dark picked up his pace slowly, slower than he usually did, savoring each thrust as he dragged the stupid little cut-off gasps from Anti's lips. The ones that turned into broken whines when he pressed deeper, when his fingers bit harsher into his hip. He was still making those low noises into his ear, the ones that usually filled Anti with a nasty little sense of pride, but now just _weren't enough, weren't nearly enough._ He wanted more, he wanted Dark to groan, openly, to praise, to tell him how good he felt, to say his _name-_

"Anti," Dark purred, like he could hear that _need_, and Anti made a choked, pathetic noise at that, his gut curling into a hot, twisted mess as the older man let out a low chuckle.

Fingers curled softly through his hair, lips brushing against his ear as Dark took a low breath.

"What's his name?"

It took Anti a moment to process the words, to force them into things with meanings, but even then, they didn't make sense.

"Who?" he gasped back. More of a whisper than anything, his breath still stolen with each languid thrust. He was usually so much more _fiesty_ at this point, snarking and moaning and goading Dark along as best he could. But now it was hard to even organize his thoughts, hard to just manage the feelings and sensations boiling over him.

Dark's teeth grazed over Anti's throat, pulling another shaky breath from him before he deigned to answer.

"The boy that fucked you so sweetly you thought you could get the same from me."

The hot roiling mess that was his gut hardened into a single heavy weight as he realized who Dark was talking about. Chase. Chase, he knew about Chase? That wouldn't be _that_ surprising maybe, but what- why wouldn't he know his name? Why would he care? Why did he think Chase had . . . it hadn't been _sweet_, Anti didn't _do_ sweet, he-

His mouth wasn't any better at putting together a coherent string of thought than his mind was. "He, _mn_, he didn't- it . . . wasn't . . ."

Dark laughed, and the sound wasn't as biting as it could be, but it still dug into the ball of his gut like a hot knife.

"No?" Dark asked, his voice too even, too calm, too _unaffected_, as he pried Anti's hand away from where he'd been grabbing at him without realizing. "You seem awfully clingy today. Are you sure your little lover has nothing to do with that?"

He didn't know, Anti realized with sudden clarity. He was guessing. He was guessing, and Anti just confirmed it.

Anti ripped his hand away, slamming it into the wall and gritting his teeth as Dark got a better grip on his hips. Fucker. _Fucker_. He didn't come here to let Dark fuck him up. _He_ did the fucking, he made Dark give him what he wanted, he proved Dark couldn't fucking control him. This wasn't what he came here for, god_damn it_.

"Shut up, and fuck me," he spit, voice still broken and weak, despite how desperately he wanted it to be anything but.

The hand in his hair tightened, pulling his head back sharply as Dark turned his lips to his throat once more.

"You asked for this," he growled back. And Anti might have had something vicious to respond with if Dark hadn't slammed into him, ripping a sharp sound from his throat as Dark held his head back by his hair and fucked him the way he usually had to beg him to.

And it was good. It was _really_ good. Anti wouldn't keep coming back like this if it wasn't. Dark knew just how to angle himself, to adjust by the sounds of his gasps, to wring out every bit of pleasure he could from the smaller man simply with the thrust of his cock. The front of Anti's stockings were tight and damp where his trapped cock dribbled, and his body curved under his grip, offering as much as it could, eager and desperate for more of what Dark could give.

He loved it. He hated it. He wanted Dark to break him, and he wanted to tear him apart for it. Thoughts narrowed down to the most basic of things, fleeting feelings and ideas that boiled away quickly under the heat of Dark at his back, and all he could do was try to remember how to breathe.

"Fuck," he whispered breathlessly, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he braced his arm against the wall. Dark slowed somewhat, easing off, but it was nevertheless intense, every movement sending his brain deeper into a haze where words were meaningless and feelings were tastes of sensation exploding across his tongue. "Fuck, Dark, _fuck_."

"Eloquent as ever," Dark bit out, but there was a strain to his voice that took away some of the bite to his words as his fingers dug deeper into soft skin.

Anti choked back an embarrassing sound, his own fingers biting into the wall instead of anything as satisfying as skin, and he grit his teeth as he resisted the urge to fix that. Dark had already pried his hands off him once, he wasn't about to shame himself by letting the man do it again.

But he _wanted_ to. God, did he want to. He wanted heat under his hands. Or on his hands. Or around his hands. Broken memories of Chase's calloused grip pinning his palms to the mattress flitted around his brain, and maybe he hadn't been dying for it then, but just the taste of satisfaction he'd gotten from that was like a siren song here, where it felt like he needed Dark to give him _something_, or he was going to fall to pieces.

He didn't even realize he was still whispering, soft traitorous pleas under his breath, until Dark made a sound of frustration, and iron fingers wrapped around his wrists.

Close, but nowhere near close enough.

"I'm not your new lover boy," Dark hissed into his ear, his voice tight and harsh as he bit bruises into Anti's wrists. "I'm not going to give you some sweet fuck just because you break into my house and demand it like a spoiled _brat_. You _know_ that."

He did. He did know that, he really did, he just . . .

He _wanted_.

Dark made another noise, something he couldn't place as well, and pulled back, slipping from him and leaving him horribly empty before grabbing him by the hips and flipping him around. Anti's back hit the wall, and his knees shook, threatening to give out on him as he tried to catch his breath.

He didn't get more than a moment to try to orient himself before Dark was hooking strong arms behind his thighs and lifting him like he weighed nothing, leaning him against the wall as he urged him to wrap his legs around his waist. Anti grabbed at him without hesitation, the little shred of dignity he'd been holding onto flying out the window as his body screamed for more contact. Usually, he'd take this opportunity to show off, arch his back and let his tongue loll out as Dark fucked him, another picture of debauchery to drive Dark over the edge. But now he just shoved his face into the crook of his neck, tasting the sweat and heat against his lips, and hiding the mess his face was.

He could feel Dark's breath, low and not quite so in control, against his ear as he shifted them, pinning him hard as his cock slid back into tight heat. His fingers were like hot iron against his skin, branding his thighs as his cock burned inside him, and even the thin layer of sweat between them wasn't enough to offset the heat overtaking him. Anti squirmed, driving his hips down as best he could, struggling to get more inside him, to burn him deeper, fingers digging at his back as he just wanted _more_.

"That's it," Dark groaned, and Anti moaned, pressing closer, Dark's shirt sticking to his wet stockings. He'd lost all sense of his rhythm, the wall painfully hard against his spine, but he didn't care, didn't _care_ as Dark turned his face against his hair. "Writhe for me."

Anti whined, scratching fruitlessly at Dark's back through his shirt. He wanted the damn thing off, torn to shreds, so he could leave marks on the man's skin, but it was too late now. The idea of separating himself from the firm line of Dark's chest now that it was finally pressed against him was insufferable, and all he could manage was to scratch blunt nails uselessly against fabric as he tried to get him even closer.

Dark's hand disappeared from one of Anti's thighs, shifting their weight, and Anti hitched his leg higher, heel digging hard into Dark's back to keep him in place. Not that Dark seemed interested in leaving now. His free hand bit into Anti's side, squeezing hard enough to bruise for a moment before it was moving again, pressing between them to hook his fingers into the tight holes of his fishnets just above his aching shaft.

Anti could feel the hard flex of Dark's shoulders under his fingers as he _pulled_, tearing the stockings further, a long rip that was plenty wide enough to give Dark the access he wanted. The first press of his burning hand around Anti's cock had the younger man keening, his body struggling to rut against the contact even as he tried to arch further into Dark's thrusts.

"Please," Anti gasped as Dark squeezed, pressing his thumb into the slit of his shaft before swiping the moisture out over his head. "Please, please, pleaseplease_please_-"

"Shhhhh," Dark crooned, breath hot on his ear. The hand still holding his thigh moved under his knee, pressing until he hitched his leg higher to match the other, ankles crossed over Dark's spine. "Shhh, that's it."

His voice was low and deep against his hair, not biting and cruel now, just that smooth rich tone curling around his gut. Anti's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, clinging desperately as Dark stroked him, fucked him, hips and body and hands hard against him. He could hear how unsteady Dark's breath was now, how he was groaning as he leaned further into his thrusts, as his hand twisted on the upstroke, and Anti's legs were trembling as he bit his lip to stop the embarrassing sobs from slipping past his lips.

"That's it, Anti," he crooned again, and Anti couldn't stop the broken sound as Dark threaded his fingers through his hair, yanking his head back and looking down on him with those dark, _dark_ eyes. The sound of his name was almost enough, almost, _almost_. "That's it, come on. I want to see you fall apart."

That, _that_, Dark's eyes roving so raptly over his face like he really did want to take in every detail, steady thrusts, clever fingers. Anti had to shut his eyes against the onslaught, and suddenly everything was too much. He choked, raw throat scratching over a sound he'd be mortified by later, eyes squeezed tight and wet, and then he couldn't breathe as he painted Dark's hand, his body jerking weakly in Dark's grasp as Dark wrang him of every drop.

"_Dark_," he moaned, voice breaking as his body sagged into Dark's grip. The older man's hands were back on his hips, holding him up as he took his own pleasure - short, rough thrusts that were on the sweet side of too much - and Anti didn't bother trying to do anything but take it.

Dark pressed him hard into the wall when he came, pinning him with every bit of his weight as he turned his head into Anti's throat. Anti waited for the bite, for the heavy press of his teeth into skin that would mark him for days, but it never came. He could feel Dark's groan against the base of his neck, the brush of his lips as he cursed under his breath, as he groaned so low Anti couldn't make out the words.

And for a few blessed beats of Anti's stuttering heart, they stayed like that. Dark covering him against the wall, wet and warm inside him, lips to his throat. His hair was messy in the corner of his eye, tickling his cheek where the older man was still pressed into his throat, and his breath was hot and ragged against his skin as they both slowly came down.

Anti's fingers had fallen loose of their death grip on Dark's now probably ruined shirt, falling to rest around the base of his throat. His could feel the start of the fine hairs on the back of Dark's neck, sweaty and hot, and so tantalizingly close. It wouldn't take much at all to run his fingers up through them, to twist his hands through Dark's hair and just hold him there, but he was just . . . too tired. 

He felt . . . wrung out. Used up. Empty. The only thing keeping him up being Dark's weight against him. 

And then even that was gone. Dark pulled back, letting in the bite of cold air against sweaty skin, and some tenuous string Anti had been grasping at snapped.

Dark's fingers pried at Anti's legs, unhooking them from their locked position behind his back. He was trying to put him back on his feet, steadying him absently, expecting Anti to bounce back on his toes like usual. But Anti couldn't find the energy to care. His knees didn't feel like holding him, and he didn't see the point in standing. Strong hands caught him before he fell, pressing him back against the wall, and Dark's familiar voice was rasping at him, post-orgasm tired and rough.

"Anti . . . come on, stand up."

_Come on,_ Anti thought bitterly, lips curling back in a tired little petulant, "No."

Dark made a short noise of frustration, his fingers tightening for a moment, before releasing him entirely.

"Fine," he growled, stepping back as Anti sunk gracelessly to the floor. "Be a child."

A flash of irritation flared through Anti, and he kicked out with a short, "Fuck you," catching Dark in the shin before he could step away and letting his irritation be soothed by the sharp hiss that earned him.

"Stay there," Dark snapped, his words clipped before he turned and stalked away, doing up his belt again as he went.

Anti stayed. Not because Dark told him to, but because he didn't see the point in moving. His body _ached_, new bruises scattered everywhere, and he was a goddamn mess. His stockings were torn, over his big toe, and up his inseam on one leg, and everything above his thighs was an absolute trainwreck.

He was . . . he was a mess. Everything was a mess. This entire thing was just . . . a mess.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

There was something hollow aching in his chest, a familiar ache after he'd won a round with Dark, but now it was . . . louder. Bigger. Taking up too much space, and it _hurt_. This wasn't what he'd wanted. He wanted that satisfaction, that feeling of victory, that . . . that _validation_ he got when Dark crumbled for him. But it wasn't worth _this_, whatever this had been, whatever painful thing was still carving out his gut and his chest and fighting him on every breath he tried to take.

Stupid. This whole thing was stupid. Why . . . but he knew why, didn't he?

A buzzing made him jump, spine grinding against the wall behind him as he turned towards the sound. His cut-off jeans were in a pile to the side of him, a small square of light lit up through the pocket, just visible through the dark fabric before it went dark again. His phone. Probably Chase again.

What did he send him this time? Some stupid picture? A story about something that happened on campus? Another casual invitation?

What would he do if Anti accepted?

Soft footsteps sounded from the hall, and Anti looked up in time to see Dark step into the room again. His shirt was gone, pants still slung low around his hips, and barefoot. He stopped a pace away, looking down at Anti with an unreadable expression, before offering him a hand stiffly.

There was a red mark near the base of his neck. Had Anti put that there?

"I'm not standin' up," Anti rasped flatly. "Don't feel like it."

"Just give me your hand, Anti." Dark said, and he sounded . . . tired. Annoyed, but tired. Anti glared at his hand for a long moment before finally offering his own.

Dark pulled him to his feet effortlessly, like he weighed nothing. His other hand caught him under the arm before he could sink back down, holding him up just long enough to scoop him up into a bridal carry.

Anti made a short noise, mouth opening to protest indignantly, but even that seemed like too much effort, and he slumped silently in Dark's grip, letting the older man do all the work.

He didn't watch where they were going. Didn't really matter. Dark could dump him out on the front step now, and it wouldn't mean anything. It was much better to just . . . lay here, head against Dark's shoulder, listening to his breathing. Maybe they'd walk far enough that Anti could sleep. That would be nice.

They didn't go that far though. Just a few more steps, through the hall, past Dark's immaculate bedroom, and into the harsh light of the master bath.

Dark set him back on his feet, and this time his hands stayed on him, hard, making Anti look at him.

"Stand," he commanded, but his voice had some give to it. "Just for a minute, Anti."

Anti's eyes slid past him to the tub behind him. One of those big clawfoot ones, standing alone on stark tiles, massive and heavy and half full of steaming water.

Dark's fingers released him slowly, and Anti stood on his own, eyes still on the tub.

That was . . . new.

Dark's hands had moved to his own belt buckle, unhooking it easily and sliding it out of his belt loops. "Undress. I'm not doing it for you."

Anti's fingers came up to his short shirt hem without thought, tugging the fabric up over his head so he stood in just his stockings. They seemed like a lot of work to get out of. He didn't move to take them off.

Dark made a short sound, but didn't say anything. He'd already stepped out of his pants and boxers, standing gloriously naked in the monochrome bathroom, and he stepped back towards the tub, offering Anti another hand in a "come on" gesture.

The water felt weird over the stockings. Dark had to catch him by the elbows when he tried to slip, and it was awkward sitting down without crushing Dark beneath him. But then they settled and it was . . . nice. Really . . . really nice.

Dark sat behind him against the back of the tub, Anti pulled back against his chest, legs tangled together in the hot water. With both of them together, the water level was up to their chests, Dark's arm slung around just under his ribs to keep him from slipping under entirely.

It was warm. Warm and comfortable and nice, and then Dark's free hand started carding through Anti's hair, and it was so much more than nice. Anti sighed, the sound forcibly soft, like he was afraid to make it in the quiet of the room, and Dark hummed back.

"I'm getting better locks," Dark murmured, and Anti opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

There was a shelf a little ways above them, just out of reach, with smooth, graceful arches holding it up against the wall. From where they were sitting, Anti could just barely see the little Zelda figurine he'd tucked there months ago.

He wondered if that meant Dark hadn't used the bathtub in that time, or if he hadn't cared enough to remove it.

"Yeah," Anti murmured after a moment, voice low and steady. He lifted one hand carefully from the water, reaching back to touch two fingertips softly against Dark's chest, walking his fingers up slowly until he could trace the line of Dark's jaw.

He closed his eyes. Didn't turn around. Didn't commit Dark's face to memory again.

He thought about the Zelda figure. Thought about the unicorn behind Dark's headboard. Thought about his phone downstairs, full of messages.

His hand slipped slowly away from Dark's face, one quick brush of lips as Dark turned towards it, before he let it drop to float in the water, and it was just Dark's arm holding him in place.

"Wouldn't want anyone breakin' in," Anti murmured, and Dark hummed, the sound so deep in his chest that Anti could feel it in his. There were fingers in his hair, lips pressed softly to the back of his neck, warmth cocooning him as Dark's legs pressed against his stockings.

In a few minutes, or a few hours, he'd go back downstairs. He'd get his pants, he'd check his phone, he'd go through his messages.

And maybe when he left Dark's soulless, colorless apartment . . . maybe he'd go get waffles.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](https://poem-is-dead.tumblr.com/) and it's almost all art reblogs. Fair warning.


End file.
